


Mr. Bad Man

by despurrito



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, First Dates, Fluff, Hook-Up, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, There are memes, You Have Been Warned, all occupations of mentioned individuals are inside the fic, get ready for, i connect to socially awkward connor in a spiritual level, if you think socially inept rk900 is cute, insecure connor, socially awkward Connor, ur gonna love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 08:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15659970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/despurrito/pseuds/despurrito
Summary: Connor was pressured by his best friends, Kara and Markus, to get into dating, since he needs a break from working so much.They threatened to make a Tinder profile for him, which he just laughs at and dismisses. When Connor concedes then made a Tinder profile for himself, he’s surprised to find a different Tinder user, who has almost the same face as his.Thinking that it was just his best friends trying to find him a hook-up without his permission, he decides to swipe right on this profile just to watch his friends suffer while lying to his face.Things took a turn when Connor and blue eyes white jacket edited Connor matched.





	Mr. Bad Man

**Author's Note:**

> Cuz I honestly just want to write more of my bois  
> I did statistics on my previous story, [ arbutus flower among white lilies ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15578124) , not including my personal preference, is that the name, Conrad, won for RK900. However, since I’m developing this big fic idea (which is not this one), I decided to put the name Conrad on that future fic instead of this one! So, I’ll settle for the second place winner name!
> 
> Everyone, meet Richard, LOL.

“What?! You still have no one?!” Kara shouted, alerting most of the customers in the café within their vicinity.

“Could you keep it down?!” Connor demanded, slapping a hand on the girl’s shoulder, who whined at the impact.

Markus laughed at their exchange, sipping at his freshly brewed coffee with earnest.

“Markus! Say something to Connor!” Kara demands, looking exaggeratedly at their oldest friend.

“What’s so wrong with not having a lover?! I mean, come on! I’m perfectly fine being by myself!” The brunet protests, yelping when the short-haired girl started pinching his cheeks.

After a few moments of torturing her best friend with her nimble fingers, she pulls away with a huff, satisfied with seeing the redness being prominent on Connor’s cheeks. “What’s wrong with it,” She starts with a stern look, making the lover-less man shiver in fear. “Is that you’re practically being buried in work! Stress is taking over you, sweetie!”

Then, Markus places down the coffee he was nursing with his large hands, a grin plastered on his lips. “She’s right, I can see the aged lines over here, Connor.” He chimes in, poking his friend’s forehead, where deep lines on his forehead formed. “You’re starting to look like an old man, when you’re just 31.”

“Guys!” Connor whines, covering his forehead, taking offense in what his artist friend said. “It’s not like I’m married to my work–“ The two looked at him with a deadpanned expression; judging his intellect and telling him to try saying a different and _convincing_ lie. “… Okay, maybe I’m a _little_ married to my work, but who cares! I have to or else who’s going to uphold justice and peace?” He asks in a demanding tone, fuming as he thinks about criminals running rampant in his beloved city of Detroit.

“Uh, literally the entire DCPD, not only you?” Markus said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes! There are other policemen, Connor! You don’t have to shoulder all the burden yourself!” Kara agrees, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I know you want what’s best for Detroit and to make your dad proud.” She says, squeezing his shoulder. “And I’m very sure you’re incredibly close to getting that promotion you wanted so badly, you very damn well deserve it!”

“But you got to think about yourself too, you know.” Markus adds in, making Kara nod in agreement. “Don’t you think your dad would be disappointed to see you, uh, not making time to make yourself happy?” He asks, furrowing his brow when Connor frowned at his question.

Of course, they’d use the dad card to get him to do what they think is best for him, but he’s not a child anymore! He’s an adult now, a big boy! He can very much take care himself, his dad, his dog, and still be happy as a police officer!

“Look, guys, I just wanted to ask how you guys have been doing in your occupations, I didn’t ask about your love lives! This is an invasion of privacy!” Connor whines, emphasizing his point by slamming his enclosed fists on the table, not that loud to scare away the people around them.

“Well, we answered!” The teacher replies with an exasperated look. “The kids in my elementary school are absolute darlings! My child, Alice, is doing well and is an honor student in her class!” She says proudly, puffing out her chest at the thought of her beloved daughter.

Markus chuckles, picking up his coffee mug. “I was just invited to go to another art museum to display some of my works and have some art enthusiasts meet me.”

“Well, I’m happy for the both of you! I wish I could have congratulated Alice for being so much like her mother, and I really want to see more of Markus’s artworks too!” Connor said in a raised voice, exaggerated with the feeling of proudness for his best friends.

“Shut up, Connor!” Kara hisses, slapping the brunet's back. “Here you are, not having a significant other while we have our own! Hell, I already have a child!”

The artist looks at the policeman, who’s still whining at the abuse he’s getting from the grade school teacher, before an idea made itself known to his head, making him grin quite ferally. “Hey Kara, what if we make a Tinder profile for Connor?”

Kara looks at him, to Connor, and then back to Markus, sporting a Cheshire grin of her own. “You’re right, that’s one way to get him a date.”

Connor raises an eyebrow in inquiry. “What’s a Tinder?” He asks, getting collective gasps from his best friends.

“By the gods, Kara! He doesn’t know Tinder!” The older man cries, covering his face with his hands as he mourns Connor’s intellect.

“Connor, sweetie, honey, baby boy, baby.” Kara calls him, cupping the said man’s cheeks like how she holds her child. “You’re so innocent and stupid at the same time, do you not have Wi-Fi at your home?!” She cries, shaking Connor wildly.

“I-I do! Kara, stop shaking me!” The policeman protests, trying to push away the girl’s intrusive hands. “It’s not like I have time to look at Tinder, Tumblr, or whatever!”

Markus does a short sign of the cross before he pats the brunet's head. “That’s why you need to download the app, Connor. It’s for your own good.”

“How is this for my own good?!” Connor whines, swatting away the hands touching him.

“Look, Connor! If you’re not going to make yourself a Tinder profile, then we will!” Kara threatens, waving her fork at her best friend’s direction.

“Yeah Connor, you really need someone to make you happy.” Markus adds, taking Kara’s raised hand then lowering it in a pacifying motion.

Then, the policeman laughs, waving his hand in denial. “I told you, I can make myself happy on my own!” He says, taking his milk tea then slurping from the blue straw the plastic cup has.

Kara and Markus looked at each other worriedly before they look back at their best friend.

* * *

It had been a few days since his hangout with his best friends and, to say the least, Connor has been mulling over their words to him ever since he got home that day.

Sure, sometimes he felt lonely when he’s at home and can’t sleep. His dad too deep in his sleep to keep him company, as well as Sumo, who’s sleeping with the older man, leaving the young policeman in his thoughts at the living room, scrolling through his Face Book news feed while a random Marvel movie was playing in low volumes as to not disturb the other occupants in their humble abode.

He’d see pictures of Kara and her husband, Luther, with their daughter, Alice, when they traveled to Disney Land Hawaii, and then he would see pictures of Markus and Simon together in Paris, where the artist proposed to his significant other under the shining Eiffel Tower at night. Markus probably hired a photographer to capture the moment, as Connor can see the genuine surprise in the blond man’s face, that Markus is too extra as fuck.

Connor would feel a mix of happiness for his friends, sometimes he’d feel delighted that the used-to-be closed-off Kara is now the woman who’s a positive influence on young children, and especially to her own child. He feels a sense of pride as well as for Markus, who was formally a delinquent, found tranquility and balance within Simon. He’s so proud of his best friends and to himself since he’s friends with these amazing people and they felt the same for having him as their best friend as well.

Of course, with the positive emotions he’s feeling, there’s the negative.

He feels slightly insecure, as you can see. His best friends found their forever much earlier compared to him who still hasn’t found anyone willing to deal with his anxious and workaholic ass. There were even times his dad was disappointed in him because he wasn’t home always, opting for overtime during work, like some android machine incapable of feeling emotions and fatigue.

Connor’s frown deepened. He didn’t think he’d be disappointing his dad in this way at all, he thought he’s making him proud because he’s working hard for the both of them. Turns out he’s sad that his son wasn’t making time for himself, to live a little, all because the young policeman feels entitled to giving back the hard-work his dad put himself in to give Connor a good life even if he was a single father.

Not only was he apparently a disappointment to his friends and family for not making time for himself, he’s also lonely. He wanted to be close to someone, a best friend who he can be intimate with in a deeper level, more so than Kara and Markus. Someone who he can get frisky with and spill his deepest secrets to, without the feeling of being judged for having said insecurities. He wants to talk about his interests with someone with passion, not like how Kara only listens to him with only one ear, the other on the tunes she’s listening, nor how Markus likes to change the topic to something else. He wants someone who he can take him to impromptu dates that he wasn’t able to get when he was in high school nor college.

 _“Am I asking for too much?”_ The brunet sighs loudly, his fingers making a quick work to download the Tinder application on his mobile device, his free hand doing lazy coin tricks.

Alright, he’s just going to give it a shot, then if nothing clicks, he’ll forget he even tried.

After a few moments of setting up his account, putting in his real name, age, and whatever else the dating application demanded, he started going through other users that are just around Detroit City.

It only had been a few minutes, but Connor’s already feeling like he won’t be able to find _the one_ with all these people. Not to judge too harshly, but they all look like they just want to find someone to fuck, and the brunet is looking for commitment, not a one-night stand.

Then, Connor came across something, or _someone_.

It was a picture of himself. _No, no, you don’t understand_ , it’s an edited picture of _Connor_ , but with steel blue eyes, staring at the beholder with such intensity that the policeman had to remind himself that it’s just an image. The edited Connor’s face was obviously him, but his jaw and cheekbones are more defined, and his eyebrows are much closer to his eyes in an intimidating fashion. To be honest, the doppelganger looks _way_ better than original Connor, which is just a blow to his self-esteem.

But hold on a minute, why is his picture here, being used in a dating site, when he has _just_ joined the dating app?

The policeman mulled it over, before a thought came to his mind. His best friends threatened to make him a Tinder profile before, so perhaps, they had made it. They even went as far as editing his picture to make him look much more handsome, and they even gave him a fake name, _Richard_ , which is, without a doubt, a very gorgeous name to give to an equally gorgeous person. Connor should feel kind of offended that his own best friends thought about changing his appearance just to snag him a date, but at least they remembered his interests enough to put in the profile’s bio.

Thinking that it really was them, trying to get him a date, his lips quirked into a mischievous smile as he swiped right, intending to egg on his friends the next time he sees them, see if they would lie to his face about making him an account on a dating application, or tell the truth and apologize for using Photoshop on his face.

As he imagined their faces of nervousness in his mind while watching the Marvel movie with half of his attention, his phone buzzed and showed that him, and the account, _Richard_ , matched.

* * *

It’s been a few weeks since Connor started chatting with _Richard_ , and he has to admit, he’s vaguely impressed at how his best friends can keep up the act for this long.

Well yeah, _Richard_ hasn’t said anything more about himself, except for his age and interests, but Connor’s having a blast just talking to him.

He doesn’t feel awkward talking about the Marvel Cinematic Universe, him being a big geek about Marvel heroes, nor was this person afraid to exchange information of what they know about well-known serial killers, because he’s working in the Police Force, _damn it_ , of course he’d be interested in knowing more about genius criminals. Connor is thinking that Markus is in charge of talking about MCU to him since he’s watched the movies with him all the time before he started watching them with Simon instead, and Kara is on serial killers’ documentaries duty, since she’s amazing in researching on just about anything.

The brunet is starting to feel agitated, to say the least, he’s starting to feel _things_ and it’s on a fake person who’s just being operated by his best friends. He’s wondering how could they keep up this charade for so long when they know that they’re talking to him, _their best friend_?

Were they _that_ desperate to get him a date that they thought the account Connor was using is not really _him_ and it was someone else using his face?

Well then, Connor’s going to make them _suffer_ for real this time!

With the morning dew illuminating his phone’s screen, he types in his message, then sends it to Richard.

** Richard **

**Hey, so we’ve been talking for like, a**  
**while now, and I thought maybe we**  
**should meet each other this time?**

**In person?**

Connor waited in bathed breath for _Richard_ to reply to his invitation, but at the same time, he’s internally smirking at the thought that maybe Kara and Markus are panicking since they, hypothetically, got him a date.

** Richard **

**_Goddamn._ **

**_You asked me first._ **

**_I feel like I’m not the alpha in this  
partnership anymore_ **

The policeman rolls his eyes at the statement, thinking it was Markus who typed that, since his older best friend likes to show off how much of a superior top-tier male he is, before he met Simon.

** Richard **

**I’m older than you, dude**

**Of course, I’m the alpha**

**;^)**

**_Offended._ **

Connor snorts.

** Richard **

**_But sure, I’ve been wanting to see  
you ever since we started talking_ **

**_Where do you want to meet?_ **

At the question, Connor had the feeling of mischievous delight at the thought of finally seeing his best friends’ demise, but secretly, somewhere deep in his mind, a miniscule emotion that spoke to him in a gentle whisper, that he hoped _Richard_ is a real person.

* * *

“So,” Connor trails off, looking over his best friends as they eat the food Kara made in the Andersons’ kitchen during lunch. Thank God for day-offs. “I got a date.”

If Connor didn’t have fast reflexes, he would be wet since Markus chose to spit the iced tea he was drinking, and if Connor didn’t hone his caring senses, he wouldn’t be able to save Kara from choking on her food by patting her back then offering her a glass of water.

After a while of making sure that his two best friends will stay alive after his announcement, the brunet sat back down on his seat then waited for them to process on what had just transpired.

“C-Connor…?” Kara starts, her pink-colored lipstick smudging beyond her lips.

“Got a date?” Markus finishes, wheezing a bit as he and the female looked at the policeman incredulously.

“Yeah.” Connor confirms, a smirk playing in the edges of his lips, but he forces it away, so he can give them the illusion of innocence. “And his name is _Richard_.” He emphasizes the name, trying to gouge a reaction out of the two.

The reaction he was looking for wasn’t what he was given. “Really?! That’s so great, Connor!” The grade school teacher cries, getting off her seat to wrap her arms around her best friend. “Finally! You’ve found someone you are willing to love other than your family and your work!”

Connor wants to push her away for insulting his lifestyle, but he decided to let her have the moment.

“I’m so proud of you, man.” Markus says as he ruffles the policeman’s already messy curly hair. “You just make sure you stay safe with whoever this person is, alright?”

“Markus, I’m a cop. I can handle myself.” The brunet stresses, a pout forming on his lips.

“Yeah, but you’re still our baby boy!” Their female friend cries, nuzzling Connor’s cheek.

He’s not sure if this conversation was one-sided or their responses to his questions were scripted.

No, you _don’t_ understand, again. Connor has always been a good negotiator, detective, and can act both the good cop _and_ bad cop in interrogations. He can smell a lie a million miles away even if there are roadworks ahead ( _“Uh, yeah, I sure hope it does!” Connor thought)_ blocking his senses.

He’s honed those lie detecting senses in tip-top condition. He has his own personal polygraph, but it’s more accurate and truer to its purpose.

However, why can’t he detect a lie on two of his best friends?

* * *

Well, Connor feels vaguely _fucked_.

He tried getting to see Kara and Markus sweat or squirm under his pressuring of the date, but they were just gleaming with pride and joy for him, which made something ugly coil within the brunet’s gut.

If they’re not lying, being all supportive of his upcoming date, then it means that they were not operating the Richard account.

It was someone else, potentially someone _dangerous_.

It’s a good thing Connor didn’t share as much information as he should have. He did only share his name, his age, and his interests, and in turn, this _Richard_ person shared the exact same things.

If this was a ploy to get Connor to trust him, then it’s working. However, with the realization that this person is someone who does human trafficking, then Connor deeply hated this guy now.

He must catch the guy on the act, his actual _face_ is on the line here!

Arriving at the designated place that Richard picked, Connor is, from the bottom of his heart, _intimidated_. This is because he’s standing in front of the most luxurious, five-star, 100% customer satisfaction guaranteed, restaurant known across Detroit City, _Jericho_.

He remembered Markus saying that he took Simon on a date in Jericho, and the food in there is _mega_ expensive, death to his wallet, RIP in pieces green bills. Connor swallows a lump in his throat, palming the wallet on his back pocket, making sure it’s there just in case he has to pay.

When the policeman entered the enterprise, he already felt out of place and insecure, seeing that the patrons inside wore overpriced jewelries, suits, dresses, and even the waiters and waitresses looked like someone trimmed them to absolute perfection, blending in perfectly with the rich folks.

Connor looks down at his plain white polo under a black jacket, black pants, and sort of shiny black shoes. He knew he should have worn something more eye-catching.

About to turn around to high-tail and run back to his home, the clerk that was eyeing him approached him with a menu tucked in his arm. “If you would follow me, sir.” He says before he began walking inside the restaurant, maneuvering across the tables and servers walking around.

The brunet blanched, his hand shakily stroking over his side-swept messy hair, to at least tidy it a bit, before he followed, his clumsiness from high school returning to him in full throttle despite being a man who’s honed his skills in combat and in avoiding corpses in favor of chasing criminals.

The clerk leads him to the deeper part of the restaurant, seeing the number of clienteles decreasing until the circular tables were empty, leading to a balcony, with a table donned with white silk table cloth, illuminated candlelight, roses of the peak of its’ beauty in a vase, and tableware set up that looked more expensive than those that the other patrons were using. Oh, and there’s a person there too.

If the policeman had anything in his mouth, he would have choked on it because apparently, his doppelganger is _real._

 _Richard_ wore a black turtleneck under a white jacket, blue trimmings on the edge of it, black slacks, and fucking _Gucci_ leather lace-up shoes. His hair was perfectly styled, with only a stray hair hovering above his forehead innocently, skin smooth that God probably thought giving this dude baby cheeks as his skin is a good idea, and it _freakin’_ is.

True to the ~~edited~~ picture Richard set up in his Tinder profile, his eyebrows are incredibly close to his eyes, his cheekbones high and mighty like Benderdoofy Crispykreme’s, and jawline so sharp that you can probably grate cheese with, _and it would come out as perfect as this embodiment of pure wowness_. _“LORD, THIS IS SO UNFAIR!”_ Connor thought out in distress as he felt adrenaline rushing out of his body, activating his fight and flight system when he’s _not_ really in a dangerous situation. _“GOD DAMN IT, BRAIN! STOP PUMPING ADRENALINE, WE’RE NOT IN A CRISIS!”_

 _“Well, you’re in a mid-life crisis right now.” _His brain supplied lamely.

 _“Oh, word.”_ Connor replied to his scumbag brain, his palms sweaty and jittery, making him clasp his hands together, rubbing his skin together to calm its shaking. Let me tell you a spoiler, it’s not working.

When Richard turns his head from his phone to look at the new arrival, Connor could have sworn he saw his life flash before his eyes.

The image in his Tinder profile did him _no_ justice, the steel blue eyes were pure electric azure that sends tingles up in the brunet’s spine, looked like the calm in the ocean before a raging storm, and it looks like his _eyes_ were the main attraction than the moon, which was shining fully in the dark sky, littered with dots called stars. The sky was beautiful, but not as beautiful as Richard’s eyes.

 _”This is Richard. Richard is real. He’s not a better, edited version me. He’s a real person.”_ The policeman thought in both distress and happiness. Happiness because the little thought that danced around his mind was right, that his wish of Richard being real has come true. Distress because he half-assed his entire appearance. Compared to Richard, perfection with the full-moon glow haloing his head, Connor is literal _garbage_.

“Ah, Connor.” Richard calls out with a gentle smile, and _oh God_ , his voice even sounded perfect, this is **_unfair!_** He stood up, Connor can easily tell that he’s broader, after years of dealing with criminals, he can tell if someone bench presses hundreds without batting an eye, and taller than him as he has to strain his chocolate orbs upwards to maintain their eye contact. _“… Is the moon following Richard’s head to keep haloing his head?”_

“R-Richard.” His voice cracked and he’s sure the joint that keeps his life together cracked as well. “Hey.” He said lamely, the clerk beside him probably cringed at his poor social skills.

Richard smiles, walking closer to him then taking his hand in his, Connor had half of his mind screaming for him not to take it since it’s sweaty as fuck, but the other didn’t react to his clammy palm, opting to bend slightly then take the back of his hand to meet his smooth lips. “I knew you’d arrive just in time, so I made sure to arrive much earlier to mentally prepare myself.” He says, _oh God_ , Connor can feel those lips move on the surface of his hand. He’s pretty sure goosebumps were appearing all over his skin.

“Y-You… I,” _“Deep breaths, Connor.”_ “I didn’t make you wait long, did I?” _“Good job, Connor.”_ “Thanks Therapist Amanda.”

“What?” Richard asks, his brows furrowed in confusion.

 **SHIT.** Did he say that out loud? “I-I mean, I’m pretty hungry, man!... Da…mn…” He said lamely, his internal organs screaming in agony for him.

The taller male smiles, the edges of his eyes crinkling in amusement, and teeth shining in pure whiteness. “I didn’t wait long, but if you’re so hungry now, we can order our food immediately.” He replies, leading Connor to his seat, being the gentleman that he is, pulling the chair for the smaller male to sit on, then pushing it once he has situated himself on the soft and plush seat.

Once they were both comfortable (well, one of them is), the clerk approaches them again, giving them the menus, and a waitress suddenly appeared, pouring their glasses with cold water before disappearing. “Please do just wave over a waiter or waitress when you are both ready to order.” The clerk says before he walks away, back to his post at the front door.

Richard smiles at Connor, then opens his menu, while the other copied him, with a more forced constipated smile and fumbling to find the crease of the menu despite it being hardbound.

“You, uh, didn’t have to pick this place… It looks so expensive.” Connor says, not really expecting to get a response as he stares in awe at how succulent and expensive the meal items in the menu are.

“I have to.” Richard responds, placing his elbows on the table then leaning a bit to get a closer look at his smaller doppelganger. “I want to impress you.” The taller man looks at Connor’s worried face calculatedly, taking into account the stress building up on the aged lines on the smaller male’s forehead. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll pay for everything.” He says with a smile on his lips, a wink thrown his way, which Connor thought was _unfair_ because he did it so smoothly without moving his other eyelid. The brunet took years of practice before he could wink without fully blinking!

“Y-You didn’t have to!” Connor protests, and his voice cracked again, round of applause everybody. “I-I’m already impressed with you as it is.” He says, whispering the last part since he’s fearing that his voice may not function as it should be with it consecutively cracking while speaking with Richard.

Richard’s expression seemed to have softened a bit more, effectively melting Connor’s guts and whatever _something_ he has left inside him. “I want to impress you until you and I can hit it off, you know?” He says, his hand reaching over then holding the policeman’s smaller one, squeezing it comfortingly. _“This is so cool, Amanda! Play Despacito #313 248 317 - 51!”_

“I’d like that.” The brunet replies, a smile tugging on his pink lips as he molds his smaller hand, filled with cuts and hardness, to also hold onto Richard’s larger, more softer ones.

If Connor wasn’t trained to look deeper into a person to see what else they are hiding, he wouldn’t be able to see the quiver on Richard’s bottom lip, or how his breath seemed to falter when he squeezed his hand back.

* * *

After ordering their food, they talked about whatever, from their theories in Avengers: Infinity War to recommending each other recent serial killer documentaries they just discovered. When their meals had arrived, the war _just begun_.

“So, now that we know each other personally, what is your occupation?” Richard asks, before he takes in the slice of beef inside his, the fork stroking over his smooth lips. _Oh God,_ Connor wants to be a fork so badly.

“O-Oh, I uh–“ Connor begins, clearing his throat before he swallows the food that were resting on his cheek, making sure he won’t choke out of nowhere. “It’s not… Not impressive.” He says, before looking up at Richard, who’s looking at him with a smile. An _expectant_ smile. “W-What’s your job first?” He inquires quickly, delaying the inevitable.

The taller male hums, taking the wine glass that was filled with the beverage known as Chateau Lafite 1787. “It’s not much. I’d frequent in live plays of various stories, just trying to build up my experiences and adding more to my resume.” He says, swirling the red liquid gently within the glass. “Now I’ve been accepted by an agent and soon I’ll be taken to make a debut on an action movie as the lead star.”

Connor blanches at Richard’s short autobiography. This guy was more impressive than the policeman ever was. Sure, Connor graduated from police academy with flying colors and while he was in scholarship funding, made a name for himself and was dubbed the youngest lieutenant right after Hank Anderson, but nothing could beat performing in front of millions of people without breaking into cold sweat. Hell, Connor was perfectly fine with getting his hands dirty with grime and blood as a law-breaker punches his face repeatedly than do public-speaking.

“How about you then?” Richard inquires, taking a sip of his red wine, watching Connor’s facial expression under his long lashes.

 _“Deep breaths, Connor.” “SHUT UP, AMANDA!”_ “I didn’t say anything out loud, did I?”

Richard furrows his brows again. “… No?”

“Oh, okay.” Connor says, part proud of himself for not speaking out loud that was supposed to be for his imaginary therapist, Amanda, and part cringing at himself that he’s obviously _being weird_ to Richard. “It’s not as impressive as yours… I, uh, am a police-guy– Cop, yeah, the, uh, lieutenant, and things.” _“Oh God, Connor, stop talking!”_

The taller male smiles in amusement. _“Oh Mr. Bad Man, you are very bad, you make me want to do bad things to you.”_ _“CONNOR, STOP!”_ “A policeman? And a lieutenant at that. That’s amazing.” Richard says, leaning on his elbows at the table as he looks at Connor like he’s the most interesting animal in an entire zoo.

Well, Connor does feel like he’s an ugly donkey right now, so.

“And you’re 31, that’s so young!” Richard compliments, a chipper tone in his silk baritone of a voice which sends butterflies fluttering within the policeman’s stomach.

“I-It’s not that impressive– anyone can be lieutenant at this age if they j-just work hard.” The brunet denies the compliment quickly, taking his own glass of wine, his fist enclosing on the handle of the glass, and he’s imprecisely sure that this is not how you hold a wine glass (but he quite frankly doesn’t care), then drinking a bit of the beverage.

Richard seems to find him drinking the wine captivating (now Connor feels silly on how he holds the glass wine), as he smiles then copies the smaller male by gripping the handle with all of his fingers tightly packed together then drinking on the open rim (okay, Amanda, that gave me diabetes, play Despacito, please.)

“Still, it’s very impressive.” Richard says as he places down his glass, copying Connor who also placed down his own wine glass. “With someone like you, I feel that Detroit City is in safe hands.”

“Whoa there, Richard. I’m just a policeman, not a king.” Connor interjects teasingly, while he grins awkwardly.

His grin suddenly flushed away, turning into mild surprise as his own gentle chocolate orbs met sharp ice blue eyes. His jaw became slack as Richard’s hands took his smaller one, enclosing it with warmth and softness.

“To me, you are a king.” Richard whispers, only to Connor, to Connor’s hyper sensitive ears, to Connor’s tingling, numbing brain, and to his stuttering, awkward, summersaulting, beating, PARADING heart. Then Richard had to finish his assault by taking his hand to his lips, kissing his fingertips like the brunet was someone of royalty.

“W-Why–?” Connor stutters as his body stiffens under Richard’s warm gaze. “I-I’m not– perfect… Y-You’re the one who’s perfect, I… I’m just a guy with rough edges, blemi-iishes, a-and social anxiety on top of a workaholic ass.” He says, too afraid to blink, because if he does, the moment might vanish into a dream like how Peter Parker turned to dust in Avengers: Infinity War.

Richard’s gaze grew gentle, his eyes shone like an enchanted river illuminated by the ever-glowing moon. “You were never _not_ perfect, Connor.” He says, his lips tracing a broken pattern on his finger. “A man who does self-sacrifice deserves more than he believes.” Then, he turns his hand, showing the cuts and rough calluses of his palm. “This,” He begins, tracing his finger on a rough scar line. “Tells me of a man who fought for justice and peace.” He continues, his eyes trailing up to meet Connor’s apprehensive look. “And nothing is more perfect than a man who has every bit of humanity inside him.”

Connor suddenly feels like he’s suffocating, unaware that he was holding his breath as he watches, and listens Richard talk to him intimately. And that just frustrates the brunet! This man can talk to him about whatever, and he’d be _God damn_ interested, then he’d suddenly talk to like he was the most important person in the whole universe. He’s just _not_ used to this kind of treatment!

Suddenly, Connor jerks his hand away from Richard’s clutches, intending to laugh the situation off, saying something along the lines of: _“Oh, Richard! Such a smooth-talker!”_ But he didn’t say those words, because he was reverted back to clumsy high-schooler ConCon (a nickname Kara and Markus calls him fondly), that he hit the wine glass while he was taking his hand back, effectively knocking the glass to topple on the table in a reclined position, spilling the red liquid on his white polo and black pants.

“Connor!” Richard cries, taking the table napkin then rushing to the policeman’s side, dabbing the cloth on the wet spots on Connor’s outfit.

“I-I, oh God, I’m sorry–! I-I should have–“ Connor tries to speak, but he couldn’t, he’s tearing up slightly as his heart was filled with so much unrecognized love from someone he felt like he’s known all his life.

“Shh.” The taller man whispers, his hand cupping Connor’s cheek, his thumb stopping his trembling lips to stutter out another apology. “It’s my fault, I… I shouldn’t have been this quick on courting you.” He says gently with an apologetic tone. “I knew you were scared of falling in love, that I’m pressuring you to fall for me, and I’m sorry.” He pulls his hand away, and Connor immediately missed his loving touch. “I was just so afraid that you’ll slip through my fingers, someone so funny, so unique, so… So weird…” Connor flinches at the word.

“…” Deep brown orbs stare back at ice blue eyes, a silent communication of a discovered love.

“… Like me.” Richard finishes, inching closer on Connor’s personal space.

Connor wants to high-five God right now.

“Excuse me.” The clerk broke the moment, what an _asshole_. “Would the two of you like to look at the dessert menu?” He asks, ignoring the romantic atmosphere he just ruined.

Richard looks at him with annoyance (Connor feels so blessed to have this man in love with him, of all people), then looks at his smaller companion, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’m already having my dessert.” He says smoothly, which made Connor choke on air. “Give me the bill, I don’t think my date would like to stay in his clothes at the moment.” He adds in, a sultry look developing on his handsome features as his ice blue eyes trails over the young lieutenant’s partly drenched form.

_“Oh Mr. Bad Man, you are very bad, you make me want to do bad things to you.”_

* * *

Connor woke up.

His eyes trained on white ceiling and hands gripping the blanket that was covering his body from the chilly air.

“Was that all a dream?” He asks to himself, bitter disappointment coiling in his gut.

His heart clenched in sadness, his brain supplying that it was a momentary happiness, and he should have just cherished what was simulated in his sleep.

He wants to cry, but he decides that spilling his tears so early in the morning is not worth the puffy eyes. He’ll just cry later night. _Ah yes_ , scheduling tears like an important doctor’s appointment.

The brunet sighs, sitting up slowly, making the blanket fall off from his torso, revealing the bite-marks and bruises littering his chest. “Holy shit!” Connor whispers harshly as he looks down at his naked chest, finding human-sized teeth indentions, breaking his skin, and bruises that were too purple for his liking.

Slowly, he eases off the bed, his feet meeting the soft carpeted floor then standing upright, finding difficulty to maintain his usual erect form since there was a throbbing pain that was prominent on his lower back. He’s not _that_ old, is he?

Upon standing, the young lieutenant found his legs were also littered with bite-marks and bruises, there was even an angry redness on his butt cheeks in the shape of a hand-print. _Hold on a minute_ , what happened to him?

In addition, where is he?

Connor looks around the room, finding that it’s definitely not his room, since it’s much bigger and more organized than his chaotically organized room (meaning even if it looked like it was visited by a typhoon, he knows where his things are).

Slowly and steadily, Connor picks up whatever clothing he could find, like a familiar black turtleneck and his Iron man boxers, then making his way out of the room.

Upon leaving the room, he could smell the gentle aroma of coffee in the morning, which makes his brain and taste buds _crave_ it dearly. He followed the scent with his nose, minding where he’s going to avoid toppling over any items.

He reaches a dastardly spacious kitchen, with a tall figure’s back facing him, his arm moving swiftly on something that Connor can't see.

Once Connor was closer, he could see scratch marks on the person’s back, red, angry, and almost bleeding. There was even bite-marks on his neck and shoulders, it’s like an animal was released and chose to have this guy as his dinner.

Mysterious person turns his head at the sound of the brunet’s soft padding steps, revealing an almost identical face. “Good morning, Connor.” He greets with a smile. He stops what he’s doing to turn to the smaller male, a smirk playing on his lips as he drinks in the sight of Connor’s legs littered with bite-marks and bruises.

“Morning Mr. Bad Man.” Connor greets back unconsciously.

“Mr. Who?” Richard asks, tilting his head in question.

“I MEAN GOOD MORNING MR. RICHARD MAN!” The brunet shouts in embarrassment, covering his face in shame as he scolds himself for calling the taller male a personal nickname.

Richard’s smirk widens, he steps closer to Connor (which wasn’t that hard, he has giraffe legs), then wraps a strong arm around his lower back, pulling him close, making the shorter one get a whiff off of his strong masculine scent. “Mr. Bad Man, huh?”

Connor wants to die. “S-Sorry, I, uh.” He stutters, wanting to run away like a rabbit from a fox predator.

“I like the name, can you be Mr. Bad Man’s boyfriend, then?” The actor asks, tilting his head in an innocent _mischievous_ fashion. It’s so unfair!

“I-I–“ Connor sputters, before he pauses, taking in a deep breath, counting to ten, doing the macarena inside his head, dabbing to the cosmos, then staring up to serene blue eyes with his honey-kissed orbs, illuminated by the gentle sun. “I’ll give you my answer, after breakfast, that is.” He replies, his eyes gazing momentarily at the food Richard was preparing: pancakes, bacon and sunny-side up eggs.

Richard chuckles, and it sounds like the smoothest and most expensive hot chocolate poured on a mason jar topped with whipped cream and cherry. “As you wish.” He says, before diving down then capturing Connor’s lips with his.

Connor didn’t think his lips ever felt good and swollen at the same time.

When Richard pulls away, Connor chased his lips for another kiss, which the actor happily obliges.

Then, Richard bit on Connor’s bottom lip, making the smaller one cry in surprise.

“What the _fuck_ , Richard!”

* * *

Markus continues scrolling through his newsfeed before he stopped at a picture of two Connors, except, one of them looked taller, sharper, faster, stronger, more resilient, and equipped with new features and the latest handsomest qualities of an alpha man. The artist furrows his brows, squinting at the screen before he looks at Kara, who’s at the dinner table, grading the pile of homework of her students. “Did Connor have a twin?”

Kara looks at him, her slender brow arched in inquiry. “… No?”

“Huh.” The male utters, looking back down on his phone, reading the caption typed on top of the image.

**Found someone! _– tagged: Connor Anderson and Richard Reed_**

Markus presses Connor’s profile picture, directing him to his profile, which greeted him with: **In a relationship with: Richard Reed **right under his basic information.

“ **KARA!** ” The artist shouts, startling the grade school teacher. “CONNOR HAS A **BOYFRIEND!** ”

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god, look at that, wow, 6000+ words.  
> I hope y’all enjoyed my fic, I sure enjoyed toying with Connor’s character in the fic, and RK900 was a feat to write!  
> Am I gonna write that future fic anytime soon?...
> 
> Maybe…
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Leave some yummy yummy kudos and comments! Kudos warms my heart and comments with critique and compliments motivates me to write more (ayt I gave u guys a hint on how to hasten my progress in writing, yall give me those COMMENTS)
> 
> See y’all in the next fic!! Mwa mwa <3
> 
> *whispers* PSST H E Y u can contact me somewhere  
> go check out my bio my bro *winks with both eyes*


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